The Phantom of the Opera Very Secret Diaries
by thesexyawesomeness
Summary: In the great tradition of the LotR Very Secret Diaries, I present to you the Very Secret Diaries of the characters in The Phantom of the Opera... Why did Christine really choose Raoul? Who is Meg Giry's father? And what on earth is Raoul doing in the wash
1. The Very Secret Diary of Christine Daae

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the Lord of the Rings Very Secret Diaries. I do not own you. Therefore nothing is my fault and you cannot blame me for anything. So there.

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**The Very Secret Diary of Christine Daae**

**Day 1:** Was trying to sleep last night when strange voice addressed me. Voice claims it is the angel of music. Guess Dad wasn't lying after all. Always had thought that 'angel of music' thing had more to do with too much liquor. Was so confused at this that I let the voice babble on for a while when I tried to figure out if Mme. Giry had the chance to slip anything into my drink. Wouldn't be surprised if she had. Funny old woman, though has great "Opera Ghost" moneymaking scheme. Can't believe that manager actually pays salary of imaginary spirit, v. amusing. Saddens me to realize that I am lying in bed at 2 in the morning listening to strange voices. Maybe need to get laid.

**Day 2:** Angel of music is teaching me how to sing pretty! Hitting high notes at 3 am not appreciated by dorm mates. Was forced to do several rather unmentionable things as revenge. Will get them all back someday.

**Day 3:** Rehearsal rudely interrupted. Feel resentful as I had been enjoying our new bondage-influenced ballet routine.

Opera is apparently being sold to 2 v. effeminate businessmen. Flamingly gay. Pitiful attempt to act straight backfired when Firmin commented that Meg was hot to Mme. Giry. Stupid blonde bitch. I am so much hotter than Meg.

Vicomte de Chagny is new opera patron. Looks vaguely familiar. Seem to recall annoying little boy who had same name. Perhaps same person?

Carlotta threw v. impressive hissy fit when piece of scenery fell on her. Stormed out.

Mme. Giry talked new managers into giving me her role. Wonder what Mme. Giry is up to. But do not really care as I get to be a star tonight! Go me!

**Later That Night:** Everyone loves me. Even Meg said I was perfect. In moment of giddy superiority, told Meg about angel of music. Suspect she thinks I'm crazy. Do not care, as I will almost certainly get laid tonight. Go me!

Was ambushed by Raoul de Changy in dressing room. Raoul seems to think we were childhood sweethearts. Funny, seem to remember throwing mud at him. In any case, annoying rugrat has grown up into v. dashing young man, so do not intend to argue. Played coy when he asked me out for dinner, claiming the angel of music wouldn't let me go. He called me Little Lotte on the way out. Perhaps he's mistaking me for someone else?

Angel of music got v. sulky at me for talking to him. Invited me to underground lair. Am uncertain about where this relationship is headed.

**Even Later That Night:** Angel of music now claims to be opera ghost. Slight identity problem going on there. What is with the mask, also? Allowed him to row me across an underground lake and seduce me. Multiple orgasms. Go me!

**Day 4:** Woke up in strange bed in underground lair. Not all that clear on what happened last night. Wanted to distract phantom/angel from playing boring piano. Snatched off mask to reveal v. horrible deformity. Tried to explain that I do not mind, as he is quite well formed in the places that count, which seemed to embarrass him further. Accused me of using him. Was sent back to dorm without even a kiss goodbye. Realized, at last minute, that I'd left my underwear there.

**Day 5:** Will be forced to play the pageboy in tonight's opera. Not looking forward to having to kiss Carlotta. Have been thinking about the other night and as it may have been a one time thing, have decided to still go after Raoul. Figure that this will pay off once we reach the jewelry-buying stage of the relationship.

**Later That Night:** Buquet, the stagehand, committed dramatic suicide by hanging self in middle of performance. Scared ballet rats shitless.

On a lighter note, have ensnared Vicomte by playing the damsel in distress. Begged him to rescue me from horrible monster. Did not mention the multiple orgasms, as did not wish to make him feel inferior. Accepted marriage proposal, despite the bit about the horses. Will worry about that particular fetish later, as I am busy admiring diamond ring.

**Day 6:** Firmin and Andre threw huge masquerade, v. stylish. Lots of singing. Perhaps masks bit was a bad idea, as phantom of the opera showed up with some Don Juan opera he wanted us to perform. Sounds like thinly disguised sex show. He wanted me to play the lead; apparently the other night was not just a one night thing after all. Shoved engagement ring down my bodice so as not to provoke male dominance struggle between him and Raoul. This backfired, as the first place he looked was my cleavage, and spotted the ring. Tried to explain that it wasn't him, it was me, but was cut off. Phantom got v. jealous and disappeared in puff of smoke.

**Day 7:** Raoul wants me to perform in this Don Juan thing. Told him no way. Would rather avoid complicated situation between ex-lover and fiancee, esp. since phantom still has my underwear and could choose to return it to me at an awkward moment. Tried to fall back on the damsel in distress thing. Raoul became even more melodramatic than I was being. _Men_. Fine, I'll do the damn show if it will shut him up.

If not for diamond ring, would so go back to the phantom right now.

**Later that night:** Went to Daddy's grave hoping to snort a few lines in peace, but was followed by Raoul de Chagny, who was sleeping beside my door in some puppylike attempt to guard me. Started singing at grave in soppy mournful fashion, hoping he would get bored and wander off. Grave started singing back. Someone must be slipping _something_ in my drinks at dinner. Am not used to inanimate objects talking back. Let Raoul take me back to the Opera House. This pale, exhausted look is not working on me. Need some serious sleep.

**Day 8:** Don Juan was a disaster. Told him it would be. Phantom killed male lead and stepped onstage in his place, assuming of course that no one would notice that Piangi had apparently lost 50 pounds and covered half his face with a white mask. Bloody idiot. Continued my solo, the show must go on and all that. After v. steamy duet, phantom proposed marriage to me right on stage. So romantic! Unfortunately still have prior engagement, literally. Stammered and looked away. Phantom finally grabbed me, dropped a chandelier on audience, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Took me to underground lair. Was somewhat miffed about murder and chandelier thing, though the chandelier was admittedly much prettier than Piangi. Confronted phantom about it. Phantom took it as an indirect insult on his looks, and went into rather pathetic rant about mother never loving him, world conspired against him, CIA following him around, etc. Perhaps mental problems more serious than I first thought.

Tried to tell him that his face wasn't the problem, but that sent him over the edge. He insisted that I would marry him nevertheless. Was kinda turned on by this take-charge attitude, but before anything interesting could happen, Raoul burst in to rescue me.

Phantom went totally psycho. Insisted that he would kill Raoul if I didn't marry him. Poor Raoul v. scared. Felt it my duty to rescue him by making out with the phantom. Yummy. He eventually came to his senses and let me and Raoul go free. Slipped me his number on the way out though. Sneaky bastard.

Raoul sang soppy love songs at me all the way home. Was touched by gesture, though he just does not have the sex appeal phantom does. Basked in the warm glow of knowing that me and his credit card will live happily ever after.

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If you're one of those people who actually reviews stories, now would be the time to do so.


	2. The Very Secret Diary of Erik, the Phant...

**The Very Secret Diary of the Phantom of the Opera**

**Day 1:** Have been watching chorus girl Christine for the past few months. Finally got up courage to speak to her. Chickened out when she asked my name, and said I was the angel of music.

**Day 2:** Am annoying those ballet rats by teaching Christine to sing in the middle of the night. Serves them right, prancing around in those provocative outfits that keep other people up at night. What is Mme. Giry thinking with those bondage-influenced ballet routines anyway? She was never that kinky back when I dated her.

What, who did you _think_ Meg's father was? Fool.

**Day 3:** Opera House is being taken over by homosexuals. My masculinity feels challenged in the presence of so much gay pride. Reasserted self-worth by dropping scenery on Carlotta, who had a quite satisfying fit at the new managers. In ironic way, led to Christine being chosen to sing her part. Thanks to me, she sounds like the awesomeness. Go me! Hope whatever the female lead is wearing in tonight's play has a low neckline.

**Later That Night:** Was watching Christine undress after performance when foppish young Vicomte interrupted. And she was just about to take off her bra too. Dammit. Insolent fop disturbingly sexy. Before I punjab lasso him, must ask who does his hair. He did not seem to notice that Christine was in her underwear either. Perhaps Vicomte gay? If so, may take him down to my lair for a few hours of fun before murdering him.

When fop left, I scolded Christine for speaking to him. She's _mine_, I called first. Christine gave very satisfactory apology. Esp. pleased with the "show me thy will, master" bit. That was hot.

**Even Later That Night:** Lured her through revolving mirror and took her to mylair. Christine dissappointingly easy to seduce. Is pretty good in bed but does not have much in the way of personality. Perhaps next time will kidnap Vicomte instead. Have unexplainable urge to run my fingers through his hair.

**Day 4:** V. angry at Christine. Little trollop crept up while I was playing piano and minding my own business, and stole my mask. So embarrasing. To add insult to injury, she didn't even seem frightened. Began rambling about my other parts. What good is a deformity if you can't scare people with it? V. put out by this. Sent her to her room and told her to think about what she'd done.

Wrote ominous notes to managers only to have them sing the threats show-tune style. Majorly weirded out by this. Feel a headache coming on.

**Day 5:** My casting suggestions have obviously been ignored. Am forming a plan.

**Later That Night:** Between scenes switched Carlotta and frog. No one noticed the difference until the frog croaked. Audience v. entertained. Performers took it in stride. Decided to mix things up by punjab lassoing a stagehand and dropping him on the ballet rats. Perfect chaotic scene resulted. Making ballet rats scream great fun.

Christine used terror of occasion as bait to lure Vicomte into her clutches. Very jealous. Not sure which of them to be jealous of. Am beginning to rather fancy Vicomte, but Christine sings prettier and is willing to shag me.

**Day 6:** Have hatched brilliant scheme to lure Raoul into the opera house and my clutches. Will demand that managers perform that Don Juan opera I wrote last month, and demand that they put Christine in the lead. As for Raoul, if Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend. So I get him into the Opera House that way, then perform a dramatic bimbo-napping on stage, with background music hinting that I am taking her to my lair.

And when Raoul arrives… and I have both of them locked in there with me… I shall do a striptease. Am certain at least one of them will succumb to my animal magnetism. Maybe both. Oooh, both. Now there's an idea.

**Day 7:** Christine doesn't want to be in the play. Ungrateful whelp. All this "Make me a star" business was obviously just an excuse to get into my pants. Feel used. Glum. Raoul managed to convince her to perform in show anyway. Am now determined that he shall be my loverboy.

**Later that night:** He followed her to her bedroom and instead of inviting him in, she shut the door in his face. So he went to sleep outside her door. Poor thing, felt v. bad for him. Christine tried to sneak out and tripped over him. Of course he woke up and followed her. On white horse, no less. Then again, never really expected any creativity from him. Is pretty, but dumber than a rock.

Christine eventually ended up at graveyard and started singing to her father. That's right, the dead one. Hid behind tombstone and started singing back. Scared the hell out of her, and Raoul, who had been hiding in the bushes watching. Am a bit bothered by this singing to dead people thing. Perhaps has necrophiliac tendencies. Also, is still calling me "phantom," even though made it quite clear that I am alive. Why does no one remember my name! Perhaps should shorten it to just "Er" to make it easier. Er. Er. I kinda like that.

Raoul fopped profusely and took Christine back to her dormitory. Stupid Christine. Stupid dormitory. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Plan to throw Christine in the lake tomorrow.

**Day 8:** Operatic masterpiece buggered up by amateurs. Punjab lassoed Piangi and sang his part. I sing prettier than he does, so there. Christine v. cute in costume. Am having second thoughts about throwing her in lake. Pulled off dramatic kidnapping without a hitch.

Even though Mme. Giry gave clear instructions and drew a map on his hand, Raoul got lost and ended up in washing machine. Seemed to think it was torture room. Managed to rescue him halfway through the rinse cycle. Idiot.

When Raoul finally found his way to main room of lair, used punjab lasso to tie him to grate. Oh my. Boy is so hot, all flushed and wet and tied up like that. Tried to come up with excuse to leave him that way, decided to tell Christine to choose between us. Christine takes an hour every morning just to decide how to do her hair, figured she would take a few days. Instead, plan backfired as Christine threw herself at me and tried to stick her tongue down my throat. Not that it wasn't nice. Was v. nice. Except heard mob coming, and did not wish to be caught in compromising position (i.e. making out with lead soprano while groping wet, tied up Vicomte.) Have the dignity of the opera to uphold. Stupid opera.

Reluctantly untied Vicomte and shooed them out. Slipped both of them my number. Vicomte was singing when they left. Such a good voice. Think I know who my next pupil will be.

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AN: I put a note about this ina laterchapter, but since not everyone seems to be reading that far, I'll put it here too. **I am fully aware that Eric is not gay!** If you read the LotR Very Secret Diaries, by which this was inspired, you'll get it. It's not just a parody of the story, but of fan fiction in general- particularly the element of making people randomly gay and putting them in strange, out of character relationships with each other. 

Nothing in here is meant to be taken seriously. I apologize to everyone who I have offended by not making that clear enough.

And I'm sorry that I laughed when I read your comments. I couldn't help it. You're funny.


	3. The Very Secret Diary of Raoul de Chagny

**The Very Secret Diary of Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny**

**Day 1:** Have run out of embroidery thread. Life suddenly so boring. Need new hobby.

**Day 2:** Wandered into town. Attempted to shop for more embroidery thread. Shopkeepers seemed v. happy to get credit card and went on about how generous I was to become their patron. Later found out that had accidentally gone into opera house instead of fabric store. Will play along with this to avoid embarrassment.

**Day 3:** Was dragged into rehearsal to meet new managers. Former manager seemed a little too keen to sell opera house. Perhaps pipes don't work, or ceiling leaks in wet season? In any case, chorus girls v. slutty. Bondage-inspired ballet routines and belly-baring tops quite scandalous for 19th century French theater. Heard that they are hiring new performers. Am seeing serious potential for new hobby here.

**Later That Night:** Was bored so attended opera performance. To my surprise, recognized lead soprano as same girl I used to follow around all the time when I was younger. Could not for the life of me remember her name. In program, saw two names listed under her part, Carlotta and Christine. Later, managed to get into dressing room to talk to her. Discovered girl does not have as great hair as me, though still v. pretty. Kept getting distracted from her by own reflection in mirror. Am too pretty for own good.

Managed to overcome distraction and ask her out, but did not understand answer. Decided it must have been yes, and told her to meet me in five minutes. Still did not figure out her name. She seems to answer to both Christine and Lotte. Wonder which one she is. Odd girl. Never showed up.

Probably had to wash her hair like all the other girls I ask out. Suspect they feel intimidated by my perfect hair. Feel sorry for them.

**Day 4:** Received mysterious note telling me to stay away from Christine Daae. So her name _is_ Christine! Wonder who sent it. Might suspect Christine herself of writing it, but I's weren't dotted with little hearts. Girls dot their I's with hearts, don't they? Don't they?

Have decided that Christine would never do such a thing. Yeah. Anyway, note also said that she was with the Angel of Music. Huh? With the Angel of… that doesn't mean she's _dead_, does it? Does it? Must get someone to help me out here.

**Later that Day:** Showed note to Opera managers, who were no help at all. Was accused of sending letters to Carlotta, who is apparently some loud and hysterical woman who stormed in with another note. Carlotta is scary. Would be certain that she is really a man under all those frilly dresses and makeup, if not for the god-awful high notes she can hit. Suspect sex change operation in her distant past. Ick.

Everyone in the opera house seems to think that I wrote the notes and that I am sleeping with Christine. Just because I went into her dressing room for five minutes? What sick minds these people have. And it's plainly obvious that I did not write those letters, because the I's weren't dotted with little hearts.

Not that I do that. Of course not.

**Day 5:** Went to _Il Muto_ thing. Christine was dressed as a girl disguised as a boy disguised as a girl or something like that. V. confusing. Pretty music. Carlotta played singing lady who turns into frog. Weird, weird play. Especially the part where they were dancing and then the dead guy was dangled from the ceiling.

Christine dragged me up to rooftop and started trying to tell me about some mutant who keeps hitting on her. She doesn't seem happy about it. Apparently mutant can't do anything cool like shoot lasers from his eyes or turn his bones to elastic. Too bad.

Asked why she was hanging all over me as if she wanted to marry me or something and she goes "yes, I will." Think she misheard. Actually, marrying her wouldn't be so bad. She's fun when she isn't whining about mutant stalkers.

**Day 6:** Went to a party! Yay! Managed to get hold of some embroidery thread in time to stylishly enhance the dress Christine was going to wear tonight. Suspect someone got there before me because the whole top part of the bodice was cut up. They didn't even hem. It was horrible. The deconstructed, fraying look is SO last season. Hemmed it for them, managed to make it look like off-the-shoulders evening gown rather than blatant attempt to see bosom.

Did _not_ try dress on. Did not! … Okay, maybe a little.

Gave Christine ring found at bottom of cereal box. She seems really enthusiastic about this engagement thing. Have decided to keep this relationship going. Need an excuse to show up at the opera house and sing random duets with Christine—feel sure that somebody will eventually recognize my star potential.

Speaking of potential, Christine's mutant stalker crashed party. Strangely alluring man. Deep resonant singing voice and commanding presence so overwhelming that I crept into the shadows and just watched him tease the party guests with his long, sharp sword.

That was _not_ a Freudian slip. Was not! … Okay, maybe a little.

Christine v. ungrateful to him if, as he claims, he was the one who made her a star in the first place. And she was wrong about the mutant powers. Disappearing in a cloud of smoke SUCH an awesome trick. Feel humbled, or something.

Wonder if he'd make _me_ a star?

**Day 7:** Christine refusing to perform in mutant stalker's opera. Suspect it has something to do with the costumes for it, as overheard her muttering something about underwear. Persuaded her to be in play by making sad puppy eyes at her. Not a very manly strategy, but it works every time.

She thinks ring I gave her is diamond. So amusing. But suspect I will be in trouble if I tell her that it is in fact plastic. Though you'd think the fact that I pulled it out of a cereal box rather than a jewelry box would have clued her in.

Have come up with clever plan to capture mutant stalker. Will trap him in his own theater, by locking the doors! It's amazing that no one has thought of this before. What ever would they do without me?

Explained this plan to managers. Was told that they can't keep doors locked because guests need some way to leave the theater once the opera is over. Told them guests can use windows. They said so could the phantom. Cannot believe they still think the opera is haunted when it is _obvious_ that a musically obsessed mutant genius with magical powers is playing these tricks. Stupid managers.

**Day 8:** Christine has been kidnapped and for some reason Madame Giry has grabbed me and started drawing pictures on my hand. These people are crazy. Wish I'd never come here.

Later that night: Was very heroic. Am proud of self. Tracked down phantom by aimlessly wandering through theater. Stumbled into his evil torture room. The only remnants of his last victim were three socks and a pair of pants. Watery spinning torture almost proved fatal until trapdoor above me opened and I was able to escape.

Followed convenient though sloppily made red arrows to Phantom's lair and demanded that he release Christine in ringing voice of manliness. Got tied to metal grating somehow. Suspect that mutant guy was about to ravish me. Christine saved my life by throwing herself at him and trying to suck the breath out of his lungs, or bite his lips off, or perform minor dental surgery, or something like that. Mutant eventually succumbed to her deadly attack method and agreed to let us go. Didn't want to leave. Never got chance to ask him if he'd train me to be a star too. Tried to convey this by singing loudly as we left. Later, found mysterious phone number written in red ink in my pocket.

It is a sign. My wish has been granted. I, Raoul de Changy, will be the next American Idol! Only we're in France, aren't we. But with my musically-obsessed mutant genius with magical powers by my side, no mere ocean can stand between me and stardom!


	4. The Very Secret Diary of Meg Giry

**The Very Secret Diary of Meg Giry**

**Day 1:** Christine acting very funny. Suspect she has gotten into Jammes' stash. Is wandering around muttering about voices in the night.

(Is also muttering about needing to get laid, but she's always muttering about that. For someone who's slept with three of my ex-boyfriends in a row, she sure complains a lot.)

Told her to go mutter somewhere else. Am trying to practice dance routine and she's just getting in the way.

**Day 2:** At three in the morning, that's right, three in the freaking morning, was woken by shriek so high-pitched, I'm surprised windows didn't break. Coming from Christine's room. Went to investigate and found her sitting on her bed, trying to look innocent. Turned on lights and looked under bed and in closet, but could not find the guy who she said made her do it. Does Christine have an imaginary boyfriend? Went back to bed and she started doing it again. Had to go back to her room and beat her with a music stand to make her stop. Don't really care if she has sex with imaginary boyfriend- what she does in her own room is her own business- but she could at least keep it down. People are trying to sleep around here!

On way back to room, found that everyone else in dormitory had been woken up too. Told them situation was under control. We will get revenge in the morning.

**Day 3:** Sale of opera to new managers was finally announced in the middle of rehearsal this afternoon. Waited patiently for people to stop giving speeches and start the rehearsal again. Carlotta started threatening to quit again and new managers freaked out. Offered to let her sing a solo. They plainly do not understand Carlotta language, in which "I will not sing anymore!" translates to "I want a raise." Scenery fell on her when she started to sing. Good old opera ghost. Can always count on him to make things interesting.

For some reason Mother suggested that Christine sing Carlotta's solo. Is she out of her mind? Christine can't sing.

**Later that night:** Okay, apparently Christine can sing. Though beats me where she learned. Tried to get it out of her after opera. She gave me some wild story about her dead father and an angel of music. Christine, what have you been smoking? Stories like that can't come true.

She MUST have gotten into Jammes' stash. Though still does not explain how she learned to sing.

**Even later that night:** No one knows where Christine has gone. Her little Vicomte person is hanging around moping, muttering something about his pretty hair. Jammes insists that she hasn't been giving anything to Christine. Says she smoked it all herself. Also complains of people having sex underneath her floor and keeping her awake. Am I the only one around here not on drugs!

Just found Vicomte in my closet, trying on one of my dresses. Chased him out and told him to go home. Note to self: write up a resume tomorrow and try to get a real job somewhere. Simply cannot put up with this place any longer.

**Day 4:** Everyone is getting mysterious notes except ME. They're all making a big fuss in the lobby about it. Christine showed up an hour ago, looking slightly confused and wearing the same clothes she was wearing last night. Doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what she was out doing last night. Told her that the Vicomte had been waiting for her until almost one in the morning, but did she care? No, she did not. She asked me to tell Mom to tell everyone that she was resting and locked herself in her room. As if anyone really cares if she's resting or not. Went and told Mom anyway. Had nothing better to do, as had no mysterious notes myself. Hmph. Anyway there are some pretty wild rumors about Christine and the Vicomte going around. Almost fell down laughing when I heard them.

Then went back to my room and worked on my resume. In addition to dancing, I wrote that I had experience in delivering messages, which seems like all I do around here sometimes, and chaperoning, also known as going anywhere with Christine and managing to bring her back home with most of her clothes on.

If _I_ were a company, _I_ would hire me.

**Day 5:** For some reason, Christine was cast as a pageboy in _Il Muto_. Do not know why. Can't be because of her singing since pageboy doesn't sing. So why isn't she in the chorus? Who does the casting around here, seriously?

Carlotta croaked in the middle of one of her solos, and so WE, the friggen corps de ballet, had to save the show by putting on our costumes really really fast and running out there to do the dance we shouldn't have had to be doing for another two hours! Didn't even have time to fix my hair properly.

Then, to add insult to injury, or, if you want to be technical, injury to insult, a dead guy fell on me and threw off my groove. What the hell? Note to self: Before getting a new job, join a union. Things like this should not be allowed to happen without monetary compensation.

Last I saw of Christine, she was dragging the Vicomte up to the roof for a quickie. Hopefully he'll decide to stay up there with her instead of wandering back down into the dorms and getting into my closet again.

**Day 6:** Masquerade ruined by unnecessary drama. Some escapee from a sci-fi convention crased the party and ran around poking everyone with swords and trying to look down Christine's shirt. Before leaving, he brushed past me and whispered, "Meg, I am your father." Whoa. Someone's been watching Star Wars a few hundred too many times. Told him to bugger off, which he did. Smoke bomb thing totally unnecessary and party was in chaos afterward. Went back to room to sulk. Stupid freaks. Stupid Masquerade.

Cheered self up by remembering how I found Raoul in Christine's dressing room this morning trying on her dress, which he had embroidered little flowers on.

Made a few copies of resume and forged a letter of reccomendation or two. Must… Get… Out!

**Day 7:** Met very nice man with long coat, colorful hat, and cane, who said I could work for him! Said I wouldn't even need resume. Wonder what his business does? He seemed glad that I'd had experience in the entertainment industry. Asked if I'd ever done exotic dancing. Do not know what exotic means. Must find dictionary.

**Later that day:** Found dictionary. **ex·ot·ic** - _adj._ – 1.) From another part of the world; foreign: 2.) Intriguingly unusual or different; excitingly strange.

He wants strange? I could teach him a thing or two about strange. Try spending your entire life at the Paris Opera House with stoners, nymphomaniacs, and crossdressers who won't come out of the closet. That'll show you strange.

**Day 8:** My last day working here! Woohoo!

In uncommonly good mood. Went to _Don Juan_ play. Got to see whoever they had playing Don Juan- Piangi, wasn't it?- propose to Christine onstage. You shoulda seen the look on her face. Then she tore off half his face, the chandelier fell on everyone, and something caught fire. V. entertaining. Almost worth ruin of opera house just getting to watch all the screaming guests.

As last gesture of friendship for Christine, distracted the bloodthirsty mob that was after her by leading them down to the underground swimming pool and declaring that it was the phantom's lair. Unfortunately turned out to actually_ be_ the phantom's lair. V. inconvenient, but explains why no one uses that pool anymore.

Ran into Christine and Raoul floating away on inflatable raft, singing insipid love songs. Told them I was running away to get a job as an exotic dancer. Raoul asked what exotic means. Got in argument with Christine, who seemed to think it involved the removal of clothing, but realized after a moment that this is Christine; she thinks everything involves the removal of clothing. Gave up and wished them good luck, yelled to the guy hiding behind the piano that the mob was gone and he could come out now, and walked out the door and into my fresh, new, uncomplicated life.

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These are all I have written so far. If you want me to write more, let me know! At the moment my life is producting quite enough insanity on its own, but I'd be willing to indulge in creating a little more for the amusement of others. 


	5. The Very Secret Diary of the Persian

**The Very Secret Diary of The Persian**

Day 1: Erik spying on chorus girls again. Have offered ten million times to set him up with this nice girl I know, but nooo, he has to have this dancer chick. So annoying with his little obsessions.

Have heard some interesting things about this girl's reputation. Am uncertain whether or not to believe them, as none of these ignorant French could possibly screw that many people at the same time…

It is a sad nation where none know the ancient sacred art of kama sutra.

Day 2: Obsession seems to be getting worse. Have been whined at to go buy red roses for him to give to Christine for the third time today. Was about to tell him to kill some rats and give those to her instead, but remembered that lair had been redecorated with very uncanonical spiffiness and enough black lace and red velvet to clothe the entire cast of Moulin Rouge. Rats have all fled in disgust. Not sure what he is thinking, suspect he has been watching campy porno movies again.

Day 3: Distraction from chorus-girl obsession and Martha Stewart complex came in form of a change in theater management. The new managers aren't paying Eric's salary. Don't they realize that he actually works here? Does all sorts of cool things with the sound system and lighting. Has all sorts of switches and vents and trapdoors that he won't let me touch for fear I'll break something.

Anyway, this couldn't come a moment too soon. He was starting to make me worry. But now he's quite happily plotting nefarious plots re: gala tonight. Has managed to get his dancing girl into lead role by dropping a piece of scenery on the person who was supposed to play the part.

Is it me or did he used to be a lot more subtle with these things?

Later that night: Opera v. much improved by new casting. Daae girl can actually sing on key, unlinke former diva. Enjoyed opera, especially bondage-inspired ballet routine. Very creative, these theater people. Always trying new things.

In other news, almost ran into _another_ guy trying to weasel his way into Christine's dressing room on way out of opera house. How many stalkers does this woman _have_?

Day 4: Erik got laid. Am proud of him. Am also very slightly resentful.

Why doesn't anyone ever want to sleep with me?

Later that night: Never say such things in front of new opera managers. Was reassured of how irresistably sexy I am and barely managed to escape being molested. Disturbing, very disturbing. Will have nightmares tonight.

Day 5: Have been entreated to find a frog. Why am I always the one he goes to about these things? "Find me a frog, daroga, I need a frog!" Find your own damn frog, you psycho-obsessive…. oh fine, just this once.

Later that Night: Went to gala to see frog in action. Must admit, was worth hunting one down just to see the look on its face onstage. Wish Erik wouldn't keep punjab lassoing people though. Gets annoying. Was funny the first few times, sure, but…

Day 6: Eric seems to be recovering from his recent bout of uncanonical heresy. He has obviously come to his senses that any version of reality that does not include myself is not worth inhabiting… either that or he is bored again. Have dreadful suspicion that it is the latter, in which case, God help us all.

He seems to be interested in her boyfriend now, as well. Am pretending that I do not find this at all disturbing, as do not wish to lose close friend over awkward sexual orientation shifts. He has constructed an overly elaborate plan to lure them both into his lair for a night of erotic entertainments. I have lent him my book of kama sutra for reference if he runs out of ideas… it's not like I was using it for anything anyway.

Managers appear to be nowhere around so I will say it again- very quietly. Why can't _I_ ever get laid? Am considering asking Eric how he does it. He manages to work around his deformity amazingly well. Perhaps mask is sexier accessory than turban? Must conduct survey on this.

Later that Night: Came back to opera for the party in order to conduct my survey and found every single person there wearing masks. Felt very out of place, was beginning to think I was the last to catch onto a new fashion, but Madame Giry saw my look of dismay and was kind enough to tell me that it was a masquerade.

Never got to conduct survey, as they are all obviously prejudiced. Left in a huff of disgust and got a glimpse of overwhelmed Vicomte cowering in the corner staring at Eric as I went out the door. Perhaps it was the lighting but his hair in particular looks awfully girly. If Eric hadn't been referring to the Vicomte as "he" I might think it was not a broadening of sexual orientation, just an innocent mistake.

Day 7: Get this. Eric and the Vicomte have both come up with the _exact same plan_ in order to lure the other into the opera house to watch Christine perform. This is like some cheesy romantic comedy, right down to the turning-formerly-unnoticed-girl-into-beautiful-popular-star thing!

I can see which way the wind is blowing. Oh yeah, I can…. And I will not be here when the chandelier falls.

I plan to go into hiding for fear of ending up in the role of token minority, or even worse, token-minority-who-gets-killed-by-aliens. (One can never tell when or where a sci-fi plot hole may occur these days.) I have at the last moment persuaded Mme. Giry to do my part of the plan instead, and I have placed myself into the hands of the witness protection program.

You will never see me again. Farewell.

AN: Sorry about the long wait. I didn't think my life could have gotten crazier, but it did. Thanks for your reviews and support, it's really inspiring.


	6. The Very Secret Diary of Carlotta

_**AN: **This may possibly be the most disturbing one yet. Okay, no "may possibly" about it, this IS the most disturbing one yet. I reread this and feel a bit unnerved that I actually came up with it. It's quite likely that I'm finally just losing it... This is wrong on so many levels, ittakessomeliberties with the traditional very secret diary format,and you will absolutely die laughing by the end of it. I mean, shoe fairies, wombat incidents, english orphans and the powers of darkness. It doesn't get_ _much better than this._

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**The Very Secret Diary of Carlotta Guidicelli**

**Day 1:** Am living the life of my dreams. All in the Opera House are in awe of my beauty and singing. My world is perfection itself and my lipstick looks divine with tonight's costume. All is right in the world.

**Day 2:** Stupid chorus girls all yawning during my solos. Bitch-slapped nearest one, who whimpered something about not getting any sleep, as if that is my problem? Voice in lovely condition. Conductor appreciative. Chorus girls stupid, stupid, stupid….

Lipstick still divine.

**Day 3: **Can't get any peace around here. Manager is quitting. Insinuated quite obviously that it had something to do with myself. New managers so obviously frightened of me. Haha. Idiots. Stormed out because I felt like it. If they make the necessary salary adjustments- added monetary compensation for pain and suffering inflicted by falling set pieces, in particular- I shall be back tomorrow as if nothing ever happened.

**Day 4: **Some half-trained ingenue apparently took my place last night, and got a standing ovation. Received vaguely threatening letters which no one would admit to having written. Suspect new patron, as have heard that he and this singing tart have some sort of thing going. However, after talking to him, decided he was not responsible, not threatening, and probably illiterate. Inbreeding among the blue-bloods is starting to take its toll. This Vicomte personage is textbook case of mental retardation, but absolutely MUST ask him who does his hair.

Sender of notes never found. V. worried. Signs are not good. First falling objects from sky, now this… Will go home and sacrifice a goat, just to be on the safe side. One can never keep Them too happy- the dark gods are fickle and take away their gifts as readily as they grant them.

**Later That Night: **Forgot to change shoes. Shoes now stained with goat's blood. Heavens, what an awful day.

On bright side, shoes now match lipstick.

**Day 5:** Have been returned to the limelight which is (of course) where I am meant to be. Angry gods appeased by blood, stupid ingenue put in her place, all right with the world once more.

**Later that night: **Have been stuffed in dark closet and can hear screams coming from outside. Someone obviously risked their life to assure that I was in a place of safety. Must have been a sudden pirate attack or something.

Passed time by reminiscing. Have not written down life story as of yet, so will do so now. Can always tear it out of diary and novelize it in my declining years, to inspire youngsters to try to follow in my footsteps and fail miserably so I canlaugh at them from my pearl-encrusted carriage.

Was born in England 33 yrs. ago as the eldest son of a poor shoemaker and his wife. Grew up sweeping chimneys, selling matches in freezing winter weather to feed my younger brothers and sisters, and staying up all night to chase damn shoe fairies away from the shop. (They've formed a union- these days they sneak into the shops, make shoes, and you find them there the next morning demanding 15 of the profits and an insurance plan.)

Stayed awake through the long nights by admiring the lovely high-heeled shoes and imagining that I were one of the grand ladies who would wear them. I saw myself on a stage, beautiful and elegant, singing before scores of admiring fans, roses thrown at my feet. One night as I wasgazing at silk dancing slippers and fantasizing of such things, a sinister darkness passed over the shoe shop, blotting out the stars. (Notjustmetaphorically,I seriously saw it happen. (We couldn't afford a roof.))

Then the voices began speaking to me in sharp,hissing whispers, telling me that my dreams were before me and I had only to reach out and grasp them. Understanding came over me as the ancient powers spoke. Grabbed an awl in one hand and a sharpened stilleto heel in another and left the shoe shop, walked back to our hovel, and killed my parents and little brothers and sisters, one by one, as they slept.

As soon as the blood of the last scrawny sibling gushed over my hands, I felt the dark ones begin to change me, shape me. V. agonizing pain occurred as they twisted and reformed my body into that of a lovely young girl. Before they could leave me, pleaded with Them to give me a beauteous voice so that I could sing onstage and have roses thrown at me just like I always dreamed. They demanded for that, the ultimate sacrifice- I got my melodious soprano and they took and devoured my soul.

23 glorious years and a name-change later, am soulless, ruthless, narcissistic diva and have never once regretted it for an instant.

**Day 6:** When commotion died down, exited closet cautiously only to find out that it had been some idiot prank followed by a lynching. Poor Buquet. The French are indeed a much hated minority, but I would never have imagined that such things could happen here in their natural habitat.

On the bright side, managers refused to let this unfortunate tragedy stand in the way of tonight's lavish masquerade. Must fly now, as need to buy new lipstick to match mask.

**Later that night:** Stupid stupid man wandered into masquerade, threw an absurd opera at us. and insulted me! And now managers plan to put on aforementioned freak show, and_ I_ am not going to be the star!

There will be dire consequences for this.

**Day 7:** Vicomte and managers not listening to my repeated demands for the starring role. Are too busy making some stupid plot to catch the "opera ghost" who haunts the theater. This "_opera ghost_" was "responsible" for every single disaster we have had, including burnt-out lighting, missing props, wardrobe malfunctions, and that nasty incident with the wombat.

Wonder if the Vicomte still stays up onChristmas Eve to try and catch Santa. Bet he does. Some people never learn.

**Day 8:** Before the show, sacrificed siamese twin goatsby the ancient Aztecritual and offered the gods their still-beating hearts. A sudden peace swept over me as I was cleaning off the altar afterwards and I knew that I would be avenged. And so I have been!

In middle of opera, little ingenue snatched away by masked man, stage set on fire, and chandelier dropped on audience. Many deaths. Sweet.

**Later that night:** Have found that Vicomte is taking ingenue away to marry him and live in a lovely mansion as his wife. This means that that wench is out of my spotlight for good! My existence has been reaffirmed once again. All hail the powers of darkness, and know that your humble servant, Carlotta the Amazingly Beautiful, has triumphed once again in your name! Woe betidehe who crosses the diva of the Paris Opera House!

... I feel an evil, maniacal laugh coming on.


	7. The Very Secret Diary of Richard Firmin

AN: I know Erik's not really gay. It's sort of a Very Secret Diaries thing. And, er, in case of confusion, Shmoopy and Giles Andre are the same person. Firmin just calls him Shmoopy sometimes. (It's an allusion to an episode of Seinfeld, as some of my more alert readers may have guessed.)

**The Very Secret Diary of Richard Firmin**

Day 1: Have bought an opera house as a surprise present to my Shmoopy for his 62nd B-day. Do hope he likes it. It was dreadfully expensive.

Day 2: He likes it! Yay! Tomorrow we shall go make our first visit and meet all the actors!

Think I will wear my lavender dress coat with the mauve embroidery on the sleeves tomorrow, but must ask Giles what he is wearing so we don't clash.

Day 3: Lord have mercy on us. These opera house people are v. fucked in the head. Dreadful, really. Good thing they have some clever new managers to fix up this place. Am making a to-do list.

1.) First of all, those tacky curtains must go. They went out of fashion ages ago, I shudder to think of what the audience must think every time those things swing shut between scenes.

2.) Fire that outrageous old lady with the ghost fixation. Not only does she insist that the former manager paid the ghost a _salary_, she seemed to take it as some sort of crude remark when I mentioned that her daughter had excellent bone structure. These theater people have filthy minds- it was a perfectly natural compliment to make. Wish I had cheekbones like that, but Shmoopy loves me anyway so it really doesn't matter.

3.) Hire better stagehands. Disastrous collapses of scenery should not be allowed to happen. Thankfully have replacement soprano for tonight, but nevertheless cannot afford to lose any more experienced performers.

4.) Find out why the underground swimming pool is walled behind steel grating and marked DANGER: KEEP OUT. A brisk morning swim would do wonders for my physique. Perhaps pool needs to be renovated.

5.) Get one of those corps de ballet dancers to teach me that bondage-inspired ballet routine. But _not_ the Giry woman's daughter. Or the one on the funny medication.

6.) See if can locate someone to (inconspicuously) watch over new opera patron while he's in the building. The poor dumb creature is bound to break something or try to eat something that isn't edible.

7.) Buy my Shmoopy chocolates to be spontaneous and romantic just like that magazine article said.

Later that Night: Performance with substitute soprano surprisingly pulled off without a hitch. The young Vicomte seems to be rather interested in this Miss Christine Daae. Young love, so terribly sweet. It just makes me tear up. Where ever did I put my handkerchief?

Day 4: There is something rotten in the city of Paris. Giles and I have received terrible threatening letters. Someone is trying to extort money from us under the alias "O.G." which people are insisting stands for Opera Ghost. And our new soprano has gone AWOL, so we have a distressed Vicomte with his own little threatening note wandering around and generally messing things up. Actually accused _us_ of writing that note. As if! The penmanship was horrible!

Poor Shmoopy very worried. Must go console him now.

Later that Night: Carlotta back. Christine back. Carlotta received similar note to Vicomte saying she will not sing here again. So of course she's back in an instant. Reverse psychology works wonders, wish we had thought to try it yesterday so all this nuisance about Christine wouldn't have been necessary.

Aforementioned ingenue, according to Mme. Giry, is in her room sleeping it off. Apparently arrived with a note taped to her forehead saying, of all things, that she will be singing the lead in tonight's opera, and also signed O.G.

Oh, please. As if that is going to happen. Did the necessary sucking up to Carlotta to convince her to resume her role as diva. Christine gets silent role, as a token gesture, because audience seems to like her. Find her rather annoying myself, but whatever.

Giles and I found a rather intriguing tall, dark, and handsome foreign fellow wandering the corridors wondering why he couldn't get laid. Of course, was our duty as managers of the opera to reassure him that he could, and, if necessary, assist, but he seemed a bit spooked. Ran off. Quickly.

I suppose the ass grabbing was a bit forward of us, but really, we couldn't resist.

Day 5: Nothing.

Later that night: Hehehehe... Froggy! Like froggies.

Ten minutes later: Why is there a dead stagehand hanging by his neck on the stage? There should not be a dead stagehand hanging by his neck on the stage. We did not HANG a stagehand over the stage, and the actors were ACTING, no one could have put him there therefore he is not allowed to be there. Therefore, he shouldn't be there. Therefore, he isn't there. He isn't there, right. Okay. I feel better now.

… it's not going away. Dammit. Must go face reality now.

Day 6: Mas-quer-ade! Paper faces on parade, masquerade, where's my feathered mask, goddammit, I can't find you… da dee dah, lalalalala de da, da dum dum, look around, where is that fan I put behind you. Find my coat, find my shoes, face of duck, duck duck goose, I can't remeeeember the words, but I'm singing to it anyway. Caaaause I'm late. And my stockings are missing, they're gone, la la- wait a second, _there_ they- stops singing abruptly There they are. I told him not to use them for _that._ Bloody hell, and they were silk too!

I am all the sudden not in the mood for a party any more. Must bribe stunt double, Larry, to take my place. Am going to a bar to sulk and get very, very drunk.

Day 7: Shmoopy acting very suspicious. Think he knows it was not me at the party. The poor fellow has something of a nervous disposition and if not careful, may drive him over the edge someday. But serves him right. Damaging my silk stockings irreparably. Ah, well, I do love him anyway, perhaps we just need to have a little talk about the proper uses for stockings and the teensy little fact that I have an evil twin who I hire as my stunt double.

After all, there shouldn't be secrets between lovers, should there?

Later that Day: Was subtly leading into heart-to-heart conversation when Vicomte burst in with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy, spilling out his plan, so totally _interrupting_ the talk that it is imperative Giles and I have soon. Anyway. Vicomte wants us to lock the doors tomorrow night. Apparently this will trap "Opera Ghost" in theater. Not to insinuate anything, but I'd rather prefer that he be_ out_ of the theater. Could not find small enough words to rephrase that in, so merely pointed out that we can hardly keep the audience sitting in here forever.

Boy finally left but by that time Giles had been called away to assist with the choreography and I was alone in the office with nothing to do but play solitaire, which I did. Depressing.

Day 8: Some bloody Spanish opera playing tonight. Vicomte still in golden retriever mode. Carlotta behaving, for once. Christine still in building and under discrete supervision to prevent any more disappearances. Carlotta not in need of supervision as she tends to leave very… loudly.

Shmoopy in horrible state, and ignores all attempts to comfort him. This is all my fault. Will spend tonight with him, have long soothing bubble bath and then have a glass of wine by the fire and talk about the issues between us.

Later that Night: Last thing can remember was…. pretty lights falling towards me… chandelier? Noises, screams, bad. Then odd smell, handkerchief over face…. Woke up a few moments ago. Still very hazy. Seem to be in wine cellar. Entry not moving. Bricks? Cement? Where is that Larry when I need him? This seems like situation stunt double should be in. Not me. Shmoopy? Where are you…?

Even Later that Night: Can't get out… no light… wine, very old wine… Entrance totally built over… want Shmoopy.

Later that Week: Have built signal fire so someone can come to my rescue. Am beginning to have suspicions about this. Who would block me in like this? Who would want to steal my life?

The Following Week: Have found underground pool. Am surviving on sushi and the desire for vengance. Want our Shmoopy back. Want him back, yes. Lovely, lovely Shmoopy…

Was Larry, yes, was Larry who locked us up here.

Was Larry who took Shmoopy from us.

Yessss….

Thief! Liar!

We hates it! We hates it forever!

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COMING NEXT: The Very Secret Diaries of the evil twin Larry and of Giles Andre- I know many of you asked for Mme. Giry, but I just can't think of anything for her right now. Wait and see, I'm sure it will happen eventually.


	8. The Very Secret Diary of Larry Firmin

AN: I read Susan Kay version of Phantom and absolutely loved it. An hour after I finished reading it, Istill felt like I was swimming through music.If anyone wants me to send them the file (a friendsent it to me on rtf! free bookness!) email me at thank you again toeveryone who's reviewed and convinced me to keep on writing more diaries, because now that I did, I'm having _so_ much fun with these...

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**The Very Secret Diary of Larry Firmin, Evil Twin and Stunt Double Extraordinare**

**Day 1:** Have determined that it is time to break out of this cruel bondage of stunt duplication and alter egotism and reach out and grasp life with both hands! But... how, I wonder?

**Day 2:** The oppression continues. Have been forced to attend 62nd birthday party of Giles Andre and wasn't even given a piece of cake! This does it. No longer shall I put up with this treatment. Am a person with all the rights of any human! Deserve cake.

Later that night: Have stolen Richard's handkerchief. So there.

**Day 3:** Am sitting here writing this wearing a lavender dress coat with mauve embroidery on the sleeves. See how they torment me! It's unethical, it's not right. And the worst has yet to be told.

Richard bought an opera house, draining money from our joint bank account to do so, which might as well be called _his _bank account because I never get any of that money, nope, the _good twin_ gets to be in charge of all financial matters, even when he just buggers off and leaves all the work to his stunt double while he goes and gets a manicure.

Am _really _getting sick of this. The time has come for drastic measures. Tonight, I shall begin my clever plan to steal the identity of Richard Firmin.

**Later that Night:** Richard and Giles left to attend the opera. No danger implied in evening, so not needed there. Intend to take advantage of this evening off. So far, have found documents with Richard's signature, learned to forge it, taken out a loan in his name, and then used the money for the following errands: gone to illegal arms dealer and put name down to receive an assault rifle with a scope, a dozen rounds of ammunition, and a small bomb. Then headed to shady part of town, bought large amount of cocaine, and stashed it in Richard's coat pocket.

Feel proud of self.

Surely harm will result.

**Day 4:** Cocaine still in jacket pocket, apparently unnoticed. Weapons have not yet arrived. Richard hanging about opera house all day, fretting about notes. Have taken to popping up behind Giles at odd moments and making disturbing commentsabout death. All this opera business a great distraction for them and makes it even easier to work my mischief.

**Later that Night:** Replaced soy milk with regular milk. Shall make poor, lactose intolerant Richarddeathly sickwhen he eats his morning cereal tomorrow.

**Day 5:** Curses. They ate bacon for breakfast. Bacon!

Weapons arrived in unmarked box. Richard assumed that box contained mother's old sewing machine that she promised to send and stored it in closet without opening it. Damn! Hate Mondays.

**Day 6:** Did something quite appalling with Richard's favorite pair of silk stockings. Can't wait until he finds them.

**Later that Night:** He was so upset he actually called me and asked me to take his place at masquerade tonight! Cannot believe my fantastic timing of this.

Brought three slightly different masks and kept switching them around whenever Giles looked away. Altered voice each time. By end of the night, poor little fellow must have thought he was having a nervous breakdown. Started twitching and giving me odd sidelong glances. Great fun. Left when party crasher started getting violent, but made Giles wait in the car so I could go back and watch the mayhem.

On a diabolical inspiration, found red wine among the refreshments, poured some over my hands, and came back into carriage wiping it off my hands in a casual manner. Wish I'd had a camera, the look on his face…

**Day 7:** Took day off and spent it reading. Found the most perfect idea in this one book. Locking a person in a wine cellar. V. nice wine cellar in opera.

**Later that Night:** Have purchased rag and cloroform in preparation for carrying out of dastardly plan. Now at the next opportunity, I shall strike! And then, his life and identity shall be mine! No longer shall I be bossed around and degraded. Soon shall be the hour of reckoning…

**Day 8:** Chandelier's unusually strict adherence to the laws of gravity gave perfect time to make the switch. Richard now harmlessly out of the way in wine cellar. Gone forever. No, not gone, merely… replaced.

Awww, Richard's so formal. You can call me Firmin. Hehe.

**Later that Night:** Giles has disappeared. Didn't end up shoving him in wine cellar too, did I? Don't _think_ I did. Hmm. Perhaps he ran away with one of the chorus boys. No matter. Glad to have him gone. Never really understood what Richard saw in him anyway.

Wait a second. If both of them are gone, then the opera house is MINE! Haha. Ahaha. Muahahahahahahahahaaaa!

I'm gonna make a fortune selling that thing on e-bay.


End file.
